


Murder on the Hogwarts Express

by Drawing_Midnight



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Murder on the Orient Express (2017)
Genre: Awkward Harry, Confused Harry, Freeform, M/M, Murder, Murder Mystery, Murder on the Orient Express au, Mystery, Serial Killer Tom Riddle, Serial Killers, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, criminal psychologist Harry, psychologist Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2019-10-27 06:26:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17761529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drawing_Midnight/pseuds/Drawing_Midnight
Summary: Harry Potter, a young, highly skilled criminal psychologist, working for the freelance detective agency, the Order of the Phoenix boards the Hogwarts Express in hopes of finding the serial Killer, Lord of Snakes. The train departs from King's Cross Station and upon entering the dining carriage he meets the charming Tom Riddle who is hosting the trip and can't help but feel slightly attracted to the wealthy, young man.But then, someone is murdered.





	1. First Blood

**Author's Note:**

> Who doesn't love a good train mystery~! Anyway I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Ya know... trains.

The sleek, blood red Hogwarts Express whistled cheerfully, clouds of steam puffing out of its spout as throngs of people poured out of the many passenger carriages. It was one of the few trains that made the lengthy journey to the Highlands of Scotland from England. In fact, the next trip scheduled for the train was in a few minutes. A few people boarded the carriages, most appearing to be of high society and some of normal middle class or lower. Not as many people as before boarded the train because of the private, by invite only, trip the train had scheduled. The last train whistle blew signaling that it would depart shortly. The train doors began to shut, almost clipping a late arrival who stood catching his breath for a few moments before heading further into the carriage to find his assigned room number printed on his invitation, ticket, and engraved on his key. His unruly, black curls appeared messier than usual and his round, wire framed glasses sat askew on his nose due to him rushing to catch the train. He had woken up late that morning, much to his dismay, only managing to shove random articles of clothing lying around his room, his work, and a book or two into his suitcase before whirling out of his flat in London, coat and scarf in hand and hair uncombed (not like it would make much of a difference). 

Private investigator Harry Potter collapsed onto the unoccupied, bottom bunk covered by a red quilt. He sighed, rubbing his face with his hands and fixed his glasses. Popping open his worn, leather suitcase, the young freelance detective rummaged around the haphazard pile of his stuff, trying to find the documents to the recent case he picked up. It contained the details of the area in Scotland, Hogsmeade, he would be going to and the leads on the case. He pulled out a rather thin packet only containing three pages of information on the investigation. Harry grimaced as he flipped through the sparse pages mainly made up of large pictures of the crime scenes and the victims. Very little evidence was found at the crime scenes, and all of the murders were committed differently. The murderer was on the move, beginning in London and had been slowly making his way up to Scotland. Also, the victims’ bodies were all found arranged carefully in different ways and positions, some of the bodies being mutilated while other remained seemingly untouched. However, the only things that were common with all the killings was a carving of a skull with a snake coming of its mouth on the forearm of all the victims, two small puncture wounds which appeared to be a snake bite, and the words ‘I am Lord Voldemort’ with a small lightning bolt drawn underneath scrawled beautifully in elegant handwriting on a small piece of parchment with the victim’s blood. It was almost as if the killer was trying to ‘sign’ his works of ‘art’. It caused the killer to be dubbed ‘Lord of Snakes’ by the newspapers, for everyone feared to utter the name Voldemort since the person who first wrote an article on the killer and called him Voldemort was found dead the next morning-- posed and signed. 

Scotland Yard wasn’t making a whole lot of headway, so one of the victim’s family hired Harry through the freelance group ‘The Order of the Phoenix’. He couldn’t really turn it down since work was a little slow lately… that and Dumbledore, the head of the Order, assigned Harry to this case. 

Why him? He wasn't the usual field work type, for he was the psychologist of the team. Harry still could not understand Dumbledore’s decision on giving him the case, despite his skills in psychiatry… Hermione was usually better at these types of cases. She could easily piece information together and come up with ideas from small details. She’d have a blast with this case. And then there was Ron— he’d definitely have a blast with figuring out the strategy this guy was using… Harry missed his two best mates. To be completely honest, the main reason Harry had probably been assigned this task was that fact he hadn't been in any newspapers since he was little, so the killer wouldn't know his identity. 

Obtaining one invitation to this private trip was quite difficult, nevermind two others, and since this was the only train headed to the highlands of Scotland for two weeks, well Harry had to go undercover alone. Folding and placing the files in the front pocket of his pants, Harry stood up and shook off his black trench coat, placing it on the hook on the back of the door. He walked into the adjoining bathroom to examine his appearance. Unkempt, wild, black curls, vivid green eyes hidden behind round glasses, slightly rumpled, grey,  v-necked sweater, upturned collar on his white button down, crooked burgundy and gold tie, and some nice fitting, black slacks with a few, nearly unnoticeable mud and coffee stains. He fixed his tie, straightened out his sweater, and folded his collar down. He tried to pat down his curls but, to no avail, they just sprung back up. Shrugging his shoulders, Harry turned out of the bathroom and picked up his invitation that sat on the bed. He glanced down at the piece of paper, the name Harrison Evans greeted his eyes in a swooping, gold, cursive. They had chosen a name close to his original name since Dumbledore wanted to take extra precautions with this case since they were dealing with a highly skilled serial killer. The details written on the piece of parchment included the host of this trip, the meal times, the activities offered, etc. A man by the name Tom Riddle was hosting and sponsoring this trip. Apparently he came from an old family with money. 

Harry exited his cabin with his invitation in hand for they would be conducting the last check up round to make sure no one without an invitation had made it onto the train. He walked through several carriages until he found a fairly crowded one where people sat at tables, lining the interior of the carriage or stood next to the bar. It appeared to be the dining carriage, each table covered in a crisp, forest green table cloth. 

Harry scanned the area for an unoccupied table, spotting one in the far right corner and began to briskly walk toward it. Just as he made it to the table, however, a man with neat short, brown hair that elegantly curled a little bit at the ends slid into the wooden, booth styled seat across from Harry. He wore a deep green suit jacket that would look black without enough lighting and an equally dark green tie. A silver pocket square complimented the look, and then their eyes met.

Shit. He had been staring. Clearing his throat, Harry turned on his heel, trying to hide the bright blush on his face. He started to walk away but was stopped by a smooth, baritone voice much like honey.

“You can sit here if you want to.” The man flashed him a charming smile and gestured to the seat across from him. Harry's eyes darted all around the carriage, trying to avoid the awkward confrontation but found that almost all the seats were already taken. 

“Uh, that would be great… er thanks,” Harry said, mentally cringing as he sat down. Why was he always so awkward in these situations. 

“So, Mr. Evans, why did you accept the invitation to go on this journey?” The man stared at Harry, his gaze intense and calculating.

“I’ve been meaning to do some traveling and work has also led me to the highlands of Scotland… ” Harry answered. Wait, how did this stranger know his name?

“Intuition… or the fact that your name is written on your invitation that you placed on the table when you sat down, but I like to stick with intuition.” The man stated as if reading Harry's thoughts. He smirked, his eyes hooded by his long lashes. “My name is Tom Riddle, nice to meet you Harrison, if I may call you that, you can call me Tom.” A white gloved hand was offered to Harry which he accepted. 

“Uh, yes you can and, um, nice to meet you too… Tom.” Harry gave the man a firm handshake as realization washed over him. “Oh, um, ern,” Harry stammered. “S-so you’re the man hosting this event.” He could feel the heat of his blush spread to his ears.

“That would appear so,” Tom said, amused by the man before him. He paused before continuing. “I wanted to have a little… fun and make a point, you see.” A smile spread across Tom’s lips. It was not like the previous smile and sent shivers down Harry’s spine-- it reminded him of a snake. 

Shaking off the chills that had just settled in in bones, Harry absentmindedly rubbed his forehead on the spot where a lightning bolt scar had been etched into his skin. He had gotten it on the night of his parents’ murder. The memories of that night were a blur, his mind choosing to bury them until he forgot, but there were a few things he could remember. Getting ready for bed, his mother’s dead body in front of him, and then a burning feeling on his forehead. One thing that remained etched into his mind was the ornate hilt of the knife used both for killing his parents and carving the lightning bolt on his head. It was an ivory blade with a bone shaped hilt, and curling up the hilt were two snakes threaded through a skull and eating each other. Harry felt nauseous, the memories vivid in his mind, his parents’ dead bodies popping up again and again. But the more he saw them the more he could see the connection in style of killing to the present case he was on. Strange.

“Are you okay Harrison? You look a bit pale.” Harry blinked rapidly, his cheeks reddening slightly. 

“Ah, yes, sorry I have a tendency to get caught up in my thoughts, work always seems to follow me wherever I go…” Harry looked down the silverware, his green eyes reflecting back. 

“Well, I can ask a waiter for some water,” Tom suggested, his brow slightly furrowed in worry. 

“Ah, yes, that would be lovely, thank you.” 

Harry began to bounce his knee, the anxiety that the memories brought setting in. Riddle’s keen eyes on him didn't help either. That cool, cobalt blue stare seemed to be examining him, analyzing his every movement as if he were some sort of test subject. 

“So tell me, Harrison, if you don’t mind me asking, what exactly  _ do _ you do for ‘work’?” Harry rested his head in one hand while he squeezed his other in fist so hard he could feel the nails biting into his palm.

“I'm a professor at a local college.” Tom nodded his head and leaned forward.

“And what subject do you teach?” 

“Criminal psychology,” Harry answered, grateful that he and Dumbledore had created an extensive backstory that wasn't too far from the truth. Yet, somehow he could feel those eyes seeing the lies in his own. He just had to be smooth. He could be smooth, right? 

“Interesting… so Harrison, have you been covering the recent murders in class?” A waiter came over and placed a tall glass of icy water on the forest green table. Harry watched as the glass perspired, leaving a ring of deeper green around it. 

“Yes, a little bit. Can't seem to stop the onslaught of questions, so might as well answer them.” Harry lifted the glass to his lips, his eyes catching a glimpse of Tom’s eyes flickering down to his swallowing throat which caused him to choke. 

“Harrison, are you sure you are alright?”  

Harry coughed while setting the glass down and patting his chest. 

“Yes,” he coughed. “I'm fine-- down the wrong pipe, that's all.” Harry tried to give Tom a smile but it looked more like a grimace. 

“So, what do you do for a living, Mr-- Er, Tom?” Harry said, attempting to lead the conversation away from his little mishap with swallowing. Tom’s eyebrows lifted slightly while his deep brown, charmingly curled at the tip hair fell slightly in front of left eye. His cupid bow lips curved upward into a dashing smile, revealing snow white teeth. 

“I’m an artist. I travel around for inspiration for my work.” Harry nodded, surprised by the wealthy man’s occupation. 

“What medium do you focus on?”

“Sculpting, but on the rare occasion I'll paint or sketch,” Tom answered. “Would you like me to paint you?” Tom raised an eyebrow suggestively. 

“Sure” Harry replied, but then it hit him. “Wait-- you don't mean-- er-- what I'm trying to say--”

“It just a simple painting, Harrison, no need to fret,” Tom said smirking. Harry shifted in his chair uncomfortably, hitting a new high score of awkwardness achieved in a single conversation with a person.

“Well, it seems about time to make my speech,” Tom said while standing up. He took Harry’s glass and lightly tapped it with a silver knife he had also plucked from the table. The monotonous murmurs of the people crowded in the carriage died down almost instantly at the sound of the glass.

“Ladies and gentlemen, as most of you already know, I am Tom Riddle the host of this event.” People politely applauded for a brief moment before Tom continued. “You have all been hand selected by me because of your skill, status, or by complete chance.” His keen eyes scanned the room, the way he held his body conveying complete confidence and regalness. Was that a flash of red in his eyes? “Your invitations will be collected as you exit this carriage to take part in the activities, or relax. I hope you all enjoy this trip and let the games begin!” 

Darkness. Harry blinked his eyes several times, trying to get them adjusted to the dark. Was there something wrong with the electricity? He could hear some shuffling and quiet whispers of the rest of the people in the carriage, and could feel the unease of the crowd.

“Do not worry everyone,” Tom’s calm voice rang clear, settling the ripples of anxiety in the puddle of people. “We are just experiencing a little shortage which happens every now and then. The power will be back on soon so do not fret.” Harry could hear some scattered sighs within the quiet whispers as the people adjusted to the situation. 

“Can anyone else feel something warm, wet, and sticky?” The voice was not too far away from where Harry and Tom sat. 

The lights flickered on.

A scream.


	2. The Game Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A murder disrupts the train ride causing detective Potter to rise to the challenge. Let the game begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for this EXTREMELY late update! I've been having some major writers block and also school is a thing so.... yeah anyway hope you enjoy it!!!!
> 
> Edit: OKAY I AM STILL ALIVE I'M SO SORRY IT HAS TAKEN ME SO LONG TO UPDATE THIS BUT I'M WORKING ON IT CURRENTLY!!!!!!!!!

__

“SHE’S DEAD!” 

Harry jumped from his seat on instinct and scrambled over to where the dead body sat: a girl with long, black pigtails and round glasses. Her eyes were stretched wide open and her throat had one clean, precise cut. A small card was placed in the slit that had some blood still trickling out. Harry reached over with a napkin and plucked it from the incision. 

“What was her name?” Harry asked, addressing nobody in particular while examining the card in his hand. 

“Myrtle Warren.” Harry glanced over his shoulder to where Tom stood, a troubled expression on the wealthy man’s face. However, that couldn’t distract Harry from the looming cloud of distressed whispers and panic surrounding the them that only seemed to grow darker and more thunderous the longer they watched the body bleed. 

“Tom,” Harry whispered, “We have to get the crowd calmed down and--” Harry gestured to the fresh corpse with his emerald eyes, “Someplace that doesn’t have a dead body.” Tom gave Harry a curt nod and turned to faced the crowd. 

He addressed the onlookers, who gazed blankly like sheep in his direction, with a firm, commanding voice, “Ladies and gentlemen, if you would please exit this car and head back to your cabins. We will be handling the situation from here, and we will notify you when it is safe to emerge from your cabin, but until then lock your doors.” The dull drone of the muddled murmurs of the flock of people filled the dining cabin. Some were worried while others voiced their distaste. Harry glanced at the ghostly body next to him that appeared to have stopped bleeding. 

“Oh, and if there’s a doctor on board could you please take a look at the body?” Harry added before the crowd dispersed. 

“Why should we listen to you?” A man with long platinum blonde hair and aristocratic features sneered. A young man close to Harry’s age with the same blonde hair but shorter sneered as well. He looked familiar.

“Because, he's a highly qualified criminal psychologist who knows what he's doing-- and because I said so.” Tom stared pointedly at the man with a challenging gaze. Harry observed the interaction a little confused he definitely knew who that man was-- Lucius Malfoy and his son Draco. He and Draco had gone to university together-- Hogwarts-- which was in fact located a little outside of Hogsmeade. Wait.  _ Shit _ . His cover might be blown. 

“Ah, Draco, um, hello,” Harry greeted, leaning in to clap the other young man on the back and whisper into the boy’s ear. The aristocratic like blonde quickly recoiled from the intimate contact.

“Po-- Evans,” Draco’s lips curled down even further with dissatisfaction as if the simple utterance of the name tasted absolutely repulsive and bitter in his mouth. Harry sighed inwardly knowing how their past rivalry left Draco resenting Harry’s existence, and heavy tension between the two.

“How have you been Draco?” The corner of Harry's lips pulled up into a polite half smile.

“It’s actually,  _ Dr. Malfoy _ , Evans.” 

‘It’s actually, _Detective Evans_ , Malfoy,’ Harry thought, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Well, _Dr_. Malfoy, would you like to examine the body while it’s still fresh?” Harry gestured to the cooling corpse causing the other’s icy blue eyes to glare but then harden as he focused on blank, glassy, brown eyes of the girl.

“A single, clean, deep, horizontal laceration across juglar is the cause of death.” Draco pulled some black, leather gloves from his pockets and slipped his dexterous, thin hands inside. He gently touched the cut, spreading it and seeing the flesh separate cleanly which caused more red to spill out, dying the girl’s slowly paling skin. 

“An especially sharp, well cared for object created the wound, perhaps a personal knife,” he said moving onto the girl’s eyes and rest of the body. “She’s still slightly warm to touch and she appears to be caught off guard which suggests that she either knew her killer or did not expect to be killed.” Draco tugged the glove off his clothed hand. “Other than that, she was a completely healthy young lady.” Harry nodded and held up the black card.

“It seems like Voldemort wants to play a game.” 

“What do you mean?” Lucius reached for the card with his hand which was also clad in an expensive, luxury, black, leather glove. Harry let the card be plucked out of his fingers which pinched it between the forest green napkin, his own mind reeling over the words he just read.

Lucius narrowed his eyes, looking over his nose to read the card aloud, 

 

“The one with the power to vanquish this mystery approaches... Born to those who have thrice defied me, born as the seventh month dies ... Parents killed one fateful night and has been marked as my equal… And you or I must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives …” 

 

Lucius wrinkled his nose, “Seems like utter nonsense to me.”

“I think it’s quite grim,” Tom commented, his eyes staring at the body intently… almost like he was humored and fascinated...

“How do we even know it's the real Snake?” Draco folded his arms, stepping away from the body. “I mean, isn't he supposed to be in Scotland already?”

“Yes, but it appears that this is indeed the work of Voldemort--” Draco winced at the second utterance of the name-- “I have studied his work intently and gone over many of the cases in class.” Harry gestured to the scene around them. “This is completely in character of, ‘he who must not be named’,” Harry mocked, “Fancy, complicated, train murder mystery.”

Draco rolled his eyes and scoffed, “Well if you keep saying his name you'll be the next one dead, Po-- Evans.” 

“You shouldn't fear a name, Dr. Malfoy, that only gives him more power over us,” Harry countered. However, he could feel the tenseness in his body like his subconscious knew he was playing with fire. And if Draco kept on messing up his name his cover would most definitely be blown. Harry mentally groaned thinking about how he had already promised Draco he would owe him. Not a smart move on Harry’s part.

“I'll be in our cabin, Draco,” Lucius said appearing uninterested in the whole affair, “Meet me in there once you're finished with this--” he looked Harry up and down, sneering-- “Ragtag detective…” Flicking his hair over his shoulder, he turned around and began to walk away from the crime scene.

“Excuse me, Dr. Malfoy,” Tom called out to the retreating blonde. He held out a white clad hand expectantly. Sneering, the elder Malfoy begrudgingly handed the card to Tom. 

“ _ Riddle _ ,” he hissed and glared at the smiling young man but there seemed to be some other emotions swirling around in his cold eyes… It couldn’t be. It was either that or Harry’s vision was getting worse-- most likely the latter. Rubbing his forehead, briefly feeling the indentation of the scar under his fingertips, Harry mind began to sort through all the new information. He would have to contact Dumbledore somehow about this unpredicted development. But how? His lips thinned. Probably at the next station which was still rather far away. They also needed to keep the body somewhere cool and protected. And he needed to interview all of the occupants of the train and keep everybody safe. Harry’s shoulders sagged. Hermione and Ron. It would be bloody brilliant if they could be here to help. 

“Earth to, Evans.” Draco waved his hand in front of Harry’s face. “Can I leave now?” Harry held his hand up causing the other to gasp and fold his arms across his chest. Tom chuckled, a warm timber that sent electricity down Harry’s spine. Shaking his head slightly, Harry came back to his senses.

“If you could find a camera that would be great,” Harry said, looking at the body whose blood was seeping into the crimson cushions of the seat. 

“Colin Creevey, probably has one,” Tom said stepping besides Harry who couldn’t resist the allure of the warm timber, shifting his gaze from the corpse to the man beside him and-- WOAH-- Harry shuffled a little bit backwards to create more space between the two of them. He thought Tom was definitely attractive but… let’s just say in this line of work you learn that people aren’t always what they seem to be. 

“As for storage of the body, we can place it in the refrigeration carriage with a guard,” Tom suggested, eyes narrowed on Harry playfully. The detective psychologist quickly averted his eyes and pulled at the hem of his sweater.

“Draco, could you go and get the camera please, and Tom could you talk to your staff to set up an area for the body and a guard please.” 

“Do you really think I would talk to some lower class--” Draco began but then scurried away with a look from Tom. The charismatic young man gave Harry a devilish smile before exiting the carriage to converse with his employees. 

Harry sighed, his whole body relaxing as he slumped into the red seat adjacent to the body. He rolled his head toward the girl wondering how and why he was in this current situation. Born as the seventh month dies? Marked as an equal? Harry subconsciously rubbed the scar on his forehead. This was going to be long trip.

“Detective Evans?” An airy, whispy voice like a soft breeze rustling the long branches of a great willow tree came from behind Harry. He tilted his head upwards to see a young lady with long, wavy blonde hair staring down at him with wide, pale eyes. She almost looked like a ghost. Harry awkwardly pushed himself up in the seat quickly and stood up, tripping over himself.

“Uh-- Er-- Hello, miss.” Harry offered his hand which she slipped between her two soft palms, grasping his hand tightly and shaking it so that it looked like they were doing the wave. Harry slightly raised his eyebrows which scrunched together on his forehead, his hand still in the lady’s grasp. “Um, excuse me, miss, but people aren’t supposed to be out of there cabins right now, so if you could please--”

“Luna,” she said in her airy voice. “Luna Lovegood.” She let go of his hand and stared at him with her wide eyes, her lips forming a small smile. “Harry Potter, I’m here to assist you in your investigation. I am a medium.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! If you liked it please leave a kudo and a comment if you feel like it. Hope you enjoy the story so far! <3


	3. Red Herring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's tarot cards are read and he finds a clue...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry. I know it has been so long since I last updated and it's because I was really lazy and didn't want to research tarot cards but I finally mustered up the strength and did it! I'm so sorry again it took me so long to update!!!!
> 
> Hope you enjoy the chapter! <3
> 
> unbeta

“Shhh, not so loud!” Harry hushed Luna, his emerald eyes wide. “I can’t blow my cover.” He scratched the back of his head wondering how she knew who he was? He raised an incredulous eyebrow at her. “Did Dumbledore send you?”

“Yes and no,” Luna plopped herself into the seat that Harry had previously occupied. “It’s quite complicated but all you need to know is that I am here to help.” She dug through the satchel on her shoulder and pulled out a deck of worn looking cards. Some were torn at the edges and cracks and creases littered all the cards which time had yellowed the once whites of the cards and faded the once brilliant colors. The backs of all the cards were black with what used to be a silver, but now grey, triangle with a line and a circle in it. Harry observed Luna’s skilled hands shuffle and spread the cards out like she was familiar with each one and knew what the otherside already held. She offered him the deck of cards with a small smile on her face and unblinking eyes. Taking the deck, Harry somehow knew what he had to do. He shuffled the deck a few times. He felt his hand twitch. An invisible string tugged his hand toward three of the cards. He could feel the sparks of energy dancing off the chosen card, however, he continued to shuffle.

“Choose.” Luna watched him pause in his movements and place the stack of cards on the table. The three cards his hand was drawn to were on the top of the deck. He could feel his hand move but it felt like he wasn’t the one moving it. The cards pulled and tugged at the string connecting his palm to the deck. He could feel the air thicken around the cards like they were emitting some sort of energy. A small but not unpleasant shock spread through his fingertips as he touched the surprisingly warm card on top. 

Stars.

The old card revealed an upside down yet beautiful midnight scene of a lake surrounded by trees. Three large, black stars hung in the upper right corner of the card. However, another image caught Harry’s eye. A white stag standing on a large boulder at the edge of the lake with water pouring from its horns. 

“Your past,” Luna said in her airy voice, looking down at the card with a far off expression. “You were tested by the universe to see if you had enough faith to trust in yourself and fate. You experienced a great loss and hardships but were given time to heal and strengthen yourself.” She looked at him, her eyes were still unfocused.  “Trust yourself and the divine will shine through.” Her head fell sharply downward to stare at the top card on the deck. 

Harry’s emerald eyes widened. Goosebumps littered his tensed limbs and neck. Like magnets being attracted to each other, his fingers flew and attached themselves to the scar on his forehead. His past. Harry didn’t like to think about it too much— the pain, the loneliness… 

A tower. 

The next card felt warm, almost hot, on Harry’s fingers. It revealed a cozy, country home on the bottom—roof and all— however the other levels of the house appeared to be haphazardly built on top like the people living in the house hadn’t expected to add other levels. Another night scene coated the card with long grasses surrounding the house which illuminated the dark sky with the raging fire that consumed all levels of the house. 

“Your present.” Luna’s ghostly grey eyes examined the card unblinking. “Presently you experience something unexpected— a massive change that brings chaos with it. Your present will have a sudden realization where you’ll see through the deceptions that surround you and find truth. Core beliefs will be challenged and new beliefs will take their places. It is time for you to break down all barriers and information and rebuild and reevaluate. Awaken to something greater.” 

Something unexpected? Well being put on this case alone was certainly unexpected but meeting Tom was too, who was definitely a flirt and quite handsome… someone who would never be interested in Harry. Grimacing at the memories of his past relationships brought to the forefront of his mind, his heart ached. Cho… sourness coated his tongue. Ginny… bittersweet yet empty disappointment settled in his stomach. Harry only wanted love from someone— anyone— was that too much to ask? 

Death.

An odd sense of home and comfort flowed through Harry’s extremities that touched the card and spread through his core. The worn card revealed a large but spindly figure cloaked in long robes that draped from its arms and hid its face. The figure rode on a large white dog and held a black flag with a white, five petaled rose in its long, thin, skeletal fingers. A man walked to the figure leaving a child standing in a cloak. 

“Your future,” Luna whispered. “An ending and transition. You will leave the past behind you and move forward to a new life. You will transform yourself into a new person. Resist these inevitable changes and you will experience emotional pain. There will be sudden changes, possibly unwanted, but you will learn to accept them and will be rewarded. Let go of the past and look to your future.” 

He will change? Unwanted but good for him in the end? Harry looked to Luna whose eyes were finally focused. He swallowed the lump he hadn’t realized was building in his throat. All of the things she said were generalizations so all of it could be just random nonsense. Who believed in this stuff anyway? 

“What does all this stuff mean anyway?” Harry crossed his arms across his chest and raised his eyebrows. Squinting her eyes, Luna pressed her lips into a fine line.

“Now, you listen to me Harry Potter.” Her voice a little raised and stern but still holding the wispy quality caught Harry off guard. “Whether you believe it or not does not matter to me but you will  _ not _ just dismiss this vital information. You could avoid certain pains and traumas if you just keep this reading in mind.” She leaned in closer to him. The same thick air the cards emitted with the strange energy that washed over his hands, danced and twirled between his fingers, and licked at his palm surrounded Luna and slowly absorbed him into it like an amoeba. 

“This isn’t the first time you two have crossed paths— in this life and the others.” Luna’s eyes fogged up again and her jaw went slack. “Bound together by fate…” Her voice sounded hoarse, however not strained. “A cycle of rebirths… each story similar yet different… conflicts and struggles… never laid to rest…” Having finished, Luna’s eyes rolled to the back of her skull and she braced herself on the table with her trembling arms. 

“Are you okay?” Harry raised his hands to help support the medium. What had just happened? Harry’s mind reeled at all of Luna’s latter statements not quite able to catch up with the current situation. After the fit passed she rested her head on her arms on the table. 

“What was  _ that _ .” Harry jerked his head to the side and saw Draco staring Luna with a bewildered expression. In his hand he held the camera while he stood apprehensively near the pair, unsure if he should approach or not. The air felt thick and almost impenetrable a few moments before but then disappeared as if Draco had imagined it. 

“I’m not entirely sure,” Harry answered, slowly standing up so he wouldn’t disturb the resting girl. “Are you any good at taking photos?” Draco snapped his head toward Harry, a sneer on his face. 

“I’m not going to do your work for you, Po— Evans.”

Harry sighed and turned to face the Malfoy heir, “Draco, you have one job. To call me  _ Evans, _ not Poevans.” Harry rolled his eyes. “And now that the Snake is on the train well I don’t really want him to know that someone from the Order is on to him. He’s playing some sort of sick game on all of us and it’s best for everyone, including you and me, to stick close to each other.” Harry’s piercing green eyes bore into Draco’s grey ones, seeming to overpower any retort Draco had on the tip of his tongue. Breaking his gaze Harry tried to lighten the mood a bit, “It would be great if you could take the photos though ‘cause I’m absolute shite at it.” 

All Draco could respond with was a “sure” and then proceeded to snap pictures of the crime scene and body. Harry hovered around the scene examining all the details trying to find any other evidence that may be of use and as all the other crime scene had been it was clean. Having wandered back over to his original seat he sat down and glanced down at the water and decided to take a sip. It wasn’t cold but it wasn’t luke warm either. His eyes flickered back over to the crime scene. There had to  _ be _ something. The amount of time was too short for any sort of murder to be completely clean. He walked toward the body and noticed something. It was small and almost invisible to the eye. Crouching down and reaching his hand out, Harry plucked a long strand of white hair from the hand of the girl. 

“Now that’s interesting,” Harry mumbled.

“What’s interesting, Harrision?” Harry jumped slightly. The voice had come from right above him. However, the familiarity of it relaxed him. 

“This.” Harry stood up from his crouching position and showed the long hair to Tom. Draco leaned in to see what Harry had found causing his already pale skin to turn paper white. “I have a suspect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you like the story so far!  
> Make sure to leave a comment and a kudo if you liked it!!!!  
> Anyway, thank you so much for reading!!!! :3 And I'll try to update more regularly (no promises though ;))

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you like the story so far!  
> Make sure to leave a comment and a kudo if you liked it!!!!  
> Anyway, thank you so much for reading!!!! :3


End file.
